YEER DAWG

PART #10 

Hi!  My name is “Yeer Dawg”, or at least that’s what my master calls me when he wants me.  I’m a blue heeler.  Yeer Pup was my old name but I’m grown up now.  I guess I should be happy my master considers me a dog.  Bozo is what I call my master.  He sells horses for a living.  Life around this place gets petty entertaining at times and I would like to share some of my stories with you. 

The other day a truck pulled in the driveway, I recognized it.  The guy driving was the one that drove in a couple of months ago and left the female for me to marry.  (It ended up irreconcilable differences.  Fortunately he came and got her shortly thereafter!)  I figured he must have brought her back to stay forever.  I thought seriously about finding me a place to hide.  However, being in charge of security, I figured I should stay around like I was doing something.

The man got out and greeted Bozo.  He pointed at me and said I had nine puppies.  I don’t know much about having puppies but I figured I should have noticed something like that!  I could see the top of the crate in the back of the truck.  It was the same one he brought my “ex” in.  I stood up on the bumper to get a better look and all I got was yelled at.

They let down the tailgate on the truck and lifted the crate to the ground.  She was back!  War monger Wilma and an army of little Wilma’s! I kinda stayed back a little in anticipation of what was going to happen next.  I could see they were going to open the crate and let her out.  She was miserable enough to be around when she was alone.  I hated to think what damage she could do with help.

They took one of the puppies out and put him on the ground.  Then they put a rope around War monger Wilma and let her out.  She stood there over the puppy like she didn’t know it was there.  I thought I would wander over and greet the little guy.  I got close enough to smell it and she came flying at me.  She grabbed the side of my face like she wanted to rip my lips off.  If this was love, I didn’t want any.  I could see she hadn’t changed much from the first time we met.

Bozo asked how I would like to have the puppy around to play with.  I wasn’t sure he wanted to hear my answer.  This decision was like all the rest around here, my opinion doesn’t count.

I got good news and bad news.  The good news is the man left and took Wilma with him.  The bad news is he left one of those little things here. Bozo took him in the barn and put him on my rug, of all places!  He was kinda cute and acted helpless and scared.  Like Bozo, you could tell by the shape of him, he hadn’t missed too many meals.  He kinda looked like a small football with legs and hair.

He waddled in and out of the tack room a few times and came over to play with me.  He wasn’t much fun.  I could bump him with my nose and the little hummer would fall over.  It seemed to be a real chore for him to get upright again.  He reminded me of a turtle on his back.

Bozo decided he was going to leave for a while and didn’t want the puppy to get lonely.  Guess who got to keep him company.  Bozo locked me and the rug rat in a stall together.  I always thought those stalls were good sized.  That one was going to get pretty small before Bozo returned. 

I started to lay down in the corner to sleep but that isn’t what Piglet had in mind.  He wanted to play.  I had to laugh, he had such a hard time navigating his rotund little body through the new shavings in the stall.  He finally made his way over to my corner and I got up and moved to the other side.  After much effort, he made it to that side.  I knew there was no way out of the stall but I thought I would check all the possibilities again.  I circled about twice and didn’t find even a hole to crawl into.  I looked over my shoulder and saw him coming after me again.  I began to wonder where Bozo might want an escape hole.  I wanted to dig one.

After he got the message I didn’t want him close to me, he stopped in the middle of the stall and started whining.  I thought his mother was hard to put up with.  I even thought the time I ran away was traumatic.  This was impossible.  It sounded like I was killing him and I wasn’t even close to him.  I knew if Bozo heard this I’d be in for it.  I figured the only thing to do was to howl when he whined.  He whined and I’d howl.  He looked at me like I was nuts and he was the one that started it.

Finally he shut up and we both curled up to go to sleep.  Mrs. Bozo cam in about that time to see what was going on.  She hadn’t seen the puppy yet.  She opened the stall door and I made a run for it.  She was so taken by my pudgy cell mate she didn’t even yell at me.  I sat in the alley and watched as she cuddled and hugged the little tubbo.  He locked her face and wagged his tail and she enjoyed every minute of it. If you want to turn a sane adult into a babbling idiot, give them a puppy.  I could tell the way to her heart was a fuzzy head, a fat belly and bad manners.  Qualities that Bozo and the puppy both possessed.  I was beginning to feel left out.  She went to the house and got him a owl of milk using my bowl.  She told me I could have what was left.  I knew from the looks of him, I would be lucky if he didn’t eat the bowl.  First they put him on my rug, then the Mrs. takes a liking to him; now they give him my bowl to slobber in.  Have you ever felt like the whole world come crashing in on you at once?

Mrs. Bozo made me get back in the stall with my new friend, as she put it.  With friends like this, I don’t need enemies.  I was laying there minding my own business and I could feel this cold nose rooting around under my front leg.  I couldn’t figure out what he was up to now.  He slobbered all over me.  I finally got tired of it and growled at him.  It only slowed him up for a minute.  I grabbed his head like I was going to bite it off and he finally got the message.  He then decided my tail was a chew toy.  He started tugging and growling like he wanted to rip it off.  I thumped on him a little more and he quit that.  My ears came next.  By this time, I figured if I ignored him he would quit.  Not on your life.  I finally rolled his little body halfway across the stall.   You guess it…he started whining all over again.

After several hours in the stall with him, we worked things out a little and I almost began to like him.  He was kinda cute, as long as he wasting eating out of my dish, sleeping on my rug or bothering me.  I figured I could put up with him for a few days, if that’s what it took.  But then, Bozo came back and exclaimed how he knew we would be good friends, and he figured we would just keep the little feller.  I’m doomed!!!

I always heard the guys comment that they came to the barn to get away from the wife and kids.  I couldn’t imagine putting up with his mother as well as him.  I live at the barn, so where can I go???  I hope somebody figures it out because this can’t go on forever.  I know next time that truck pulls in, I’m not sticking around.  It’s a jinx for me and I don’t want any more!

Til next time, this is Yeer Dawn signing off.  Check me out on the web @ www.cbyboots.com  or Yeer dawg.com